Chapter3

The black tendrils of dark magic crawled frantically up my veins like living things. An icy, piercing ache spread straight toward my heart. Kael’s breathtakingly dangerous face hovered inches from mine. A devouring, fanatical fire burned in his silver-gray eyes as he watched the Dark Blood Pact—his own handiwork—prepare to sear itself into my very lifeforce.

A day ago, the excruciating agony of being forcibly branded would have been enough to utterly shatter my sanity.

But the instant those black tendrils plunged into the core of my heart, the expected collapse never came. The trauma of my past life—the agonizing memory of having my bones pulverized inch by inch in the dungeon, the bitter resentment of being drained cold like a mere blood bag, the absolute humiliation of his forced possession. The rancid stench of that cell. The grating screech of iron chains rubbing against my shoulder blades. The sickening crack of my knuckles dislocating beneath the heel of his boot.

All of it detonated in one cataclysmic blast. My heart contracted violently, and then, it delivered a single, deafening pulse.

A terrifying surge of power—the absolute antithesis of his dark magic—erupted from my chest.

Brilliant, blinding gold pierced outward through my flesh, illuminating the bleak dungeon like the midday sun. My veins became starkly visible beneath my skin, each one pulsing like a river infused with molten gold. The dark threads infesting my bloodstream didn’t even have a second to thrash. The moment they met that gilded light, they disintegrated and evaporated instantly, leaving not even ash behind.

Sizzle! The black vines impaling my collarbones spontaneously combusted. Dark fire consumed them from the roots upward, as golden flames raced along the thorns, surging straight toward the caster, Kael. A scorched, sickly-sweet scent infused the air—the distinct smell of abyssal materials burning through.

His expression shifted violently. "Your blood... it awakened early—"

Kael never got the chance to finish. My bloodline flowed with an ancient purifying power, possessing a natural, devastating supremacy over dark magic. As the black threads burned to nothing, the backlash rode the contractual bridge he had forced open, shattering his soul's defenses like a backflow of molten lava.

The massive kinetic shockwave launched his entire body backward. He slammed against the stone wall and slid down, dragging a dark smear of blood across the surface.

As his dark magic fractured, the enchanted steel shackles binding my limbs disintegrated into fine powder. I dropped hard onto the freezing flagstones. When my shoulder blades hit the ground, the puncture wounds along my collarbones tore violently, sending warm blood sliding down the skin of my chest. My bare feet splashed into a puddle—Kael's blood, warm and viscous, coating the spaces between my toes.

Gritting my teeth, I propped my upper body up. My arms trembled, the heels of my palms pressing against the jagged rubble on the flagstones, digging into my flesh. But I could move. The chains were gone, the magic was severed, and I sat up.

I raised my head, staring coldly ahead.

The once-untouchable Archduke of Darkness was now curled up on the floor. The front of his military uniform was soaked pitch-black with blood, half his face buried in the shadows. He panted frantically, his long, elegant fingers clawing so desperately at the floor that blood seeped from the edges of his fingernails.

I looked down, towering over his blood-smeared face. There wasn't an ounce of mercy in me. Only fierce euphoria.

Pressing against my knees, I stood up. The simple act of rising pulled at every wound across my collarbones and back, sending a blaze of pain all the way from my left shoulder down to the side of my ribs. But I stood straight.

The puddle beneath my feet let out a wet smack as I moved. I lifted my bare foot and stomped my heel dead against the side of his face. The coarse texture of the stone bricks ground into his cheekbone. I shifted my weight, viciously crushing his head against the rough surface. A muffled groan squeezed out of his throat—not quite a scream, but a sound like something being forced from the very bottom of his lungs.

"You wanted to brand me like a dog?"

I bent down. The motion tore the wounds on my collarbones even wider, the pain slicing like a dull blade from my left shoulder to my sternum. But I didn't stop. I violently grabbed the silver clasp at his waist. With a hard yank—clink—the heavy ring of keys dropped into my palm. The metal still carried the lingering warmth of his body heat, a solid, heavy weight against my skin.

I tightened my grip on the keys and stood back up. Turning around, I walked toward the iron door. Behind me came the sound of Kael's frantic panting on the floor; ahead of me was the narrow corridor leading to the exit. Three steps away was the iron door, and behind that door were the stone stairs leading upward, the surface, and freedom. I remembered it perfectly.

The blood on my soles left a trail of broken footprints across the flagstones. Stepping up to the door, I inserted a key into the lock. The metal biting together let out a dry, grating clack.

"Keep your name. Carve it into your own tombstone."

I turned the key, and the locking mechanism sprang open. As I took a half-step across, my ankle paused for a fraction of a second. Then, I crossed the threshold, never looking back.

The stone stairs stretched out beneath my feet. With every step, the stinging pain from my wounds whipped from my chest backward to my spine. But I kept climbing. A sliver of light hovered above—real morning light, leaking through the gap of the exit door.

But just as I was about to step onto the final stair, from the direction of the heavy iron door I had left open at the bottom, came a low, raspy, broken chuckle.

My hand froze on the handrail.

"Run, Aria..." His voice drifted up from the depths of the dungeon. "Run fast... The harder the prey fights... the sweeter she cries when she gets locked back in her cage."